


What It Feels Like To Burn

by LovelyPlantPrincess



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Eloping, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Mental Instability, Multi, Multiple Song!Fics, Past Rape/Non-con, Racial slurs, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyPlantPrincess/pseuds/LovelyPlantPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The undocumented moments, should have's, would have's, could have's, and different universes of the couple Nero Padilla and Gemma Teller-Morrow. What the world didn't get to see of the 'cracker MILF' and 'spic pimp', and the Hollywood glamour that could have climbed out of the blood, ash and smoke of Charming, California.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Earned It

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fact. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> Song: Earned It by the Weeknd

_On that lonely night_  
_We said it wouldn't be love_  
_But we felt the rush_  
_It made us believe it was only us_

They fuck a lot, Gemma realizes when he rolls off of her one morning, kissing her forehead and tossing a sluggish arm over her stomach. And it’s true. They fuck like rabbits - probably because they’re away from Charming and the risk of Clay finding either of them and killing them has dwindled down to none. No responsibilities - no apprehensions. Gemma wonders if he’ll ever get tired of her - like Clay and John did - and find some sweet thing in the bar to put his dick in. She wonders if he’ll decide that he’s done with the ‘cracker MILF’ as soon as some twenty-something talks kind to him.

But Nero looks at her like they’re teenagers in love and she knows that if it does happen, it won’t happen any time soon.

And she knows for certain when a small little stick bought under Nero’s nose comes up with a bright red plus sign. Gemma cringes - she thought she’d went through menopause already, she thought she was done with this shit. But it’s as clear as day, sitting in that dingy motel.

She wonders if this will force her to go back to Charming. She considers aborting. She considers adoption. She considers just fucking _killing_ herself. It’s not like it wouldn’t make shit easier - on Nero, on the MC, on everyone who’d ever made the mistake of caring just a little bit about her.

But she catches a picture that Nero took when they were at a beach off the coast. He’s holding the camera and laughing about something, and she’s looking at him like he’s just given her all the stars in the galaxy. And suddenly, none of those options seem feasible. Especially not the last one.

By the time Nero slips in the door with a handful of groceries and snacks to pack into their RV, she has decided on what to do. If he doesn’t want the kid, they’ll find some clinic and get rid of it. If he does want it… well, they’ll go from there.

“What’s your favorite place in the whole wide world, Nero?” she asks, once he’s tossed his white beater on the bed. He frowns, making a small pout with his bottom lip as his brows furrows in deep thought. The cogs in Gemma’s head stop turning for a minute as she think about how fucking cute he is.

Eventually, the older man shrugs a drops a delicate kiss to her temple.

“Anywhere with you, mama,” he decides. Gemma gives an over dramatic groan. She loved that Nero was so romantic - it was a teenage girl’s wet dream, the way he smothered her in affection and sweet nothings - but she really wished that sometimes he would be realistic.

He must see this so he gives another shrug. “I guess Juarez. It was shit growing up there but… my family was there. And you of all people should know how much I love my family. I kind of miss them, and I have a bunch of friends back there. Good memories too.”

“Do you want to go back? To y’know… live there?” she asks, trying to keep the conversation steady as she works up the courage to tell him the news. She had yet to make up her mind on whether it was good or bad, but if it’s bad, she doesn’t want to experience the backlash for it. It’s not the first time she’s been forced to have an abortion, and she doesn’t know if Nero’s hand is as strong as Clay’s.

Nero snorts. “Hell no. I’m good right here, with you, Gem. On the open road - just us. You don’t like it?”

He seems so disappointed, and Gemma can read the sadness in his voice - he sold his business so that they could have enough money to live pretty for the rest of their lives while they traveled. He told her before they left Charming - he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but they couldn’t do it there. They both had dropped _everything_. And truth be told, he really didn’t want to go back to Charming to start over. He would hate to see the smug ‘I told you so’ looks on the faces of his family and friends there - not to mention, he doesn’t want to deal with Clay’s crazy old ass.

“Fuck, baby, why’re you so good to me?” Gemma whispers, and he can tell the question is rhetorical. Nero expression lifts immediately, the sadness draining from him like someone pulled a cord. Gemma cups his face with her hands and Nero covers them with his own. He knows something is wrong - wonders if her kid is okay, or maybe if she’s having second thoughts about leaving Clay. But Gem just smiles up at him and let’s a single tear slip from her eye. The last time she’d cried while smiling was when he told her that he was taking her away from Charming. “I’m pregnant, Nero.”

“W-what? I thought… I thought you…” he feels rude for bringing it up, but Gemma nods her permission. Apparently, she was thinking the same thing. A woman her age couldn’t have kids - especially if she just went through menopause not two months before.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she admits. The grip on her hand tightens a little. “ _But…_ I took seven tests, and then two other brands to make sure it wasn’t faulty. They all say the same thing. And there’s only one possibility of a father - I’ve been sleeping with the same man for half a year.”

Nero can’t help it anymore. She’s so beautiful suddenly. Well, to him, she’s always been beautiful. But in the glowing light of being the mother of his child, it makes her radiant. He wishes he could say it was his first, but that doesn’t matter. It was kid with the woman he loved.

He crashes his lips against hers and pushes her onto the creaky motel mattress. Gemma’s knee instinctively comes to rub against his inner thigh and he shivers, breaking away from the kiss. They lay there on the bed for a moment, grinning giddily at each other.

“You want it?” Nero asks. a thought coming to his mind. He wasn’t going to force her to carry a child she didn’t want - no matter how much it would crush him. Nero made a vow to put Gemma’s needs before her own, and he wasn’t going to break that shit. She was his queen, and he was going to treat her as such.

“Only if you do, baby.” Nero laughs, burying his nose into the soft skin her neck. She smells good. Like baby powder and vanilla and cherry. It’s probably her shampoo mingling with her perfume, but whatever it is, he breathes it in.

His hands travel down her sides as he attempts to shift some of his body weight off of her. Cold fingers snake under black leather and large thumbs graze the flesh right under her breasts. Gemma’s breathing picks up a tad and Nero takes that as a sign to keep going. Her knee moves against his inner thigh and he grunts, slipping his thumbs under the lace of her bra to run of her hard nipples.

“Gemma?” Nero mutters, his lips moving against her chin. She shudders.

“Yeah?” she asks, breathing hard.

“I’m _not_ having a baby out of wedlock. That’s so tacky,” he murmurs, nuzzling her neck a bit. Gemma laughs - leave it to Nero to call her pregnancy tacky and still somehow manage to not offend her. “How about you become Mrs. Gemma Padilla in the state of…”

Nero pauses, racking his brain for a good place before settling on one far away from Charming. “Florida. You’re already used to the climate - it’s just like California except more southern.”

“Hm… redneck state?” she asks, and Nero knows he’s picked the wrong place. He opens his mouth to choose somewhere else but she just pulls at his bottom lip with her teeth. “I _love_ it.”

_You make it look like it’s magic_   
_'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you_   
_I'm never confused (hey, hey)_   
_I'm so used to being used_


	2. Carmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fact. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> Song: Carmen by Lana Del Rey

_Eating soft ice cream_  
_Coney Island Queen_  
_She says, "You don't want to be like me_  
_Looking for fun, getting high for free."_

He first meets her at some shady nightclub where junkies hide their addictions and pimps look for their new sweet young thing. She’s on the dancefloor, blonde and dark hair swishing around her face, small tendrils sticking to her face with sweat. Her lips are full and dark, her eyes are ripped with dark eyeliner and her eyelashes are so long they cast shadows over the full apples of her cheeks.

Her ass and tits look good in the tight little dress she wears, and although she’s dancing on another man, she’s looking him dead in the eyes. He watches her body as it presses against the man’s, watches the way her heels lift off the dancefloor so that her knee can graze against the other man’s crotch. Nero doesn’t know what it is, but it makes him jealous.

He realizes he wants her. He wants her _bad_.

The girls he came here with find her on the dancefloor, and soon she’s sandwiched between two pretty blondes grinding hard. The younger girl whispers something in her ear and she throws her head back, hair falling over the other girl’s shoulder. Nero tries to pry his eyes off of her, but she’s exposing so much flesh and he gets the urge to turn that creamy skin red with hickey’s. He wants to fuck her. So bad.

She stops her dancing when a slow song comes on and joins him at the bar, his girl’s in tow. They’re all over her, pawing at the leather of her too-tight dress. Nero buys her a cold beer and she runs it over her breasts to cool off. He swallows hard.

“Girls, keep it in your pants,” he snaps. Their hands fall off of her and to their sides. Between their white dresses, and their innocent, pouting faces, the woman looks like some sort of dark goddess. Black six inch heels, black leather dress, black leather jacket over her shoulders. Dark makeup.

She’s sexy and she knows it.

“They’re no bother sugar,” the woman says. It’s in the direction of the girl’s, but she’s still staring at him. Nero clears his throat.

“I’m Nero.”

“I’m… _Rose_ ,” she whispers.

“The name matches the looks,” he replies. " _Beautiful_.”

She laughs, the same toss-her-head-back laugh that she gave Brittany earlier. Nero fights the urge to lean forward and kiss the hollow of her neck - instead, he kisses her hand. Long black nails graze his cheek as he pulls away, and it sends a shudder down his spine.

“I ain’t been flirted with like that since I was eighteen, baby.”

“Shame,” he shrugs. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

Rose smiles at him, and they’re back to their little staring contest. He’s surprised at how it isn’t awkward, how the intensity is just enough to get his dick hard. He swims in her hazel eyes, at the glint of mischief behind those beautiful irises. He doesn’t comment on how they’re dilated - everyone has their way of partying.

They would stare at each other all night, but Brittany draws her attention away briefly by pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Rose’s mouth. Pink mingles with maroon, and there’s something about the smudge of color on the shadows of Rose’s face that makes Nero dizzy. Rose cocks her head to the side and Brittany follows her lead, nipping at the pale skin on her neck. Nero barely fights his jealousy, but he loses it when Tiffany begins to run her hand up and down the exposed flesh on her thigh. He’s forced to watch as hot pink nails dig into her thigh and tug. Simultaneously, Brittany suckles on a small bruise she’s left on Rose’s neck. The older woman’s mouth falls open, and he wonders what her pretty little mouth will look like wrapped around his cock.

“Brittany and Tiffany here were planning on taking me back to their place. Do you want to join us, Nero?” she asks. His heart skips a beat, although he plays it cool.

“I’d love to… _Rose_.” 

 _She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes_  
_She laughs like God, her mind's like a diamond_  
_Audio tune lies, she's still shining_  
_Like lightning (oh) white lightning_


	3. Dark Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fact. Tread lightly.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: Thanks to Guest for leaving me my first comment! 
> 
> Song: Dark Times by the Weeknd feat. Ed Sheeran

_This ain't the right time for you to fall in love with me_  
_Baby I'm just being hones_  
_And I know my lies could not make you believe_  
_We're running in circles that's why_

Nero always came home smelling of cigarette smoke and drenched in the blood of those who dared to disrespect his 'family'. Gemma always keeps her head down when he's in that state, his eyes dilated from the most recent kill. She knows better at this point - two husbands that were in the same position makes it easy for her not to ask too many questions. She takes a wet towel and dabs away the blood from his face, watching as the red tint ruins her perfectly good towels.

And he’ll catch her wrist and look him in the eyes and she can tell he’s sorry. She never says anything in return. Gemma never talks to Nero when he’s fucked up.

“It’s bad for you, mama,” he whispers, when he wraps his arms around her waist and presses a kiss into her blonde highlighted hair. It’s always the same after a kill - he’s always guilt ridden and self-loathing. She doesn’t comment on how bad Clay is fucking him over by making him do all this shit. Gemma pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and flutters her eyes closed. “ _I’m_ bad for you.”

“I never like the good boys much anyway,” she replies. Nero chuckles then, genuinely laughs since he joined the club. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, gives her a toothy smile. It’s the smile he reserves for her - somewhere between a smirk and a full smile, with his brown eyes bright like she’s the world.

And that night, when he thinks she’s asleep, he’ll coil a strand of hair around his finger or run a hand down her cheek and whisper all his confessions to moon. He never tells her directly, but Gemma thinks he knows she’s awake and Nero thinks Gemma knows a little too much.

“I love you, Gemma Padilla,” he’ll whisper to her. “I love you so… so fucking much. I’ll die for you, mama. But right now… right now I ain’t good. These are dark times and I ain’t clean. And I need to be clean for you. I need that for myself.”

_That loyalty is going to kill you, baby. And that blood… that blood I won’t have on my hands._

He comes home one time with a broken rib and a bruised eye. Gemma decides right then that she isn’t going to let Clay treat him like shit anymore - she’s going to fix everything and then take her love away from Charming. She calls Tara over - Tara, who's called a truce with her for the sake of Jax and her grandbabies - to look after him while she takes her gun and her rage to Clay’s house.

He’s sitting at the dining room table, next to the spot where he beat her bloody. And he looks… solemn, but at peace. Like he's expecting someone to come and make it his last night on her Earth. Gemma locks her jaw and sets her purse down on the kitchen table.

“You come to kill me, baby?” he asks, spinning the glass between his fingers.

“Alcohol ain’t good with your medicine, Clay,” she whispers. The man chuckles, bitter and angry. Gemma almost hates to see him like this, but then she remembers Nero and the way he reached out for her when the pain got too bad. It steels her resolve.

“You didn’t come to tell me to fix my health issues,” he whispers back. Gemma nods.

“You’re gonna leave Nero alone. He’s getting out the club and we’re getting the hell out of dodge,” she says. “You won’t look for us. You won’t send Jax. You won’t send anyone. You and your MC stay the _fuck_ here.”

“And if I don’t? If I don’t let my wife run away with some spic?”

“I’ll rip your beating out right between your fucking ribs and bronze it,” she spits. Clay’s eyes harden at the threat, but she can tell by the way he moistens his lips that he takes her seriously. He had no reason not to - Gemma never reneged on a promise before. “And if you talk about Nero like that again, I’ll do much worse than that.”

“I’ve always loved you when you’re a bitch, baby girl,” he rasps.

“Stay the fuck away, Clay. I mean it. Leave us _alone_.”

It seems like his laughter follows her out of the household of bad memories and all the way up to North Carolina, where she takes her love and runs way from the hell that’s Charming.

 _In my dark times I've still got some problems I know_  
_Driving too fast but just moving too slow_  
_And I've got something I've been trying to let go_  
_Pulling me back every time_


	4. Can't Feel My Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: Thank you to Olivia for reviewing! I agree that there isn't enough Nero/Gemma in this fandom - hopefully, I can provide that with the new projects I have coming to the SOA fandom.
> 
> Song: Can't Feel My Face by the Weeknd

_And I know she'll be the death of me, at least we'll both be numb_   
_And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to come_   
_But at least we'll both be beautiful and stay forever young_   
_This I know, yeah, this I know_

Nero is good people, Gemma tells herself, as she goes down on him in the backseat of his truck in the middle of nowhere. Nero isn’t Clay - he doesn’t fuck her face until he comes and then try to make up for it by half-assed fingering. And he isn’t John - he looks her in the eye when she’s riding his cock, not closing his eyes to think about some redheaded Irish beauty.

Nero is sweet on her. She knows it. She can sense it in the way he coils her hair around his finger when she slumps forward, throat raw from screaming and clit aching to be touched again. He’s a gentleman too - he always gets her off first, makes sure she can’t scream his name anymore before he gets his. His favorite thing to do is to make her orgasm, says he likes the look of bliss and serenity on her face when she’s coming hard. He calls her ‘Mama’ and drives into her, deep and slow and sensual. He’s gentle, with his large hands gripping her waist just hard enough to bruise lightly but not tight enough to harm her. And with the rough life she’s living, it’s just enough to make her curl her toes and leave scars on his back.

“It’s okay, mama,” he’ll whisper, when she’s still shaking and shuddering and trying not to cry because everything feels so fucking beautiful. Nero had a special way of making her feel beautiful. “Let me take care of you.”

So she does.

She lets him look after her - he beats the bloody shit out of a guy who gropes her ass at a bar, and treats her like the Queen she’s always wanted to be - and she repays tenfold. All he wants is her undivided attention - and she doesn’t mind that. Clay’s locked up - or dead, Gemma hasn’t been to Charming in two years and she wouldn’t know the difference between an ass and a crack in the ground in that place - and he doesn’t bind her wrists anymore.

And there ain’t no one else catching _her_ eye right now - Gemma hates that she falls in love so easily, but Nero has her heart and that’s not changing until he does something to make it so. So she lets Nero bend her over the coffee table in the morning, after breakfast, and then make love to her at night under the stars of whatever state their wandering souls decide to call a temporary home.

It’s surprisingly better than the stability she had in Charming. And it’s the first time that Gemma has felt truly free since she first met John. She decides one night, tucked under his arm, that she’s climbing well into her fifties - it’s about time she lived a little.

_And I know she'll be the death of me, at least we'll both be numb_   
_And she'll always get the best of me, the worst is yet to com_   
_All the misery was necessary when we're deep in love_   
_This I know, girl, I know_


	5. This Could Be Us

_Tears splashin' the floor when I opened the door for her_  
_She acted like a whore and I’ma let her_  
_Learn from Project Pat uh pimpin’ got her masters_  
_Girl, improvise, look me in my eyes and lie to me_

She’s been turning tricks but since she was seventeen, but there’s _never_ been a patron like _him_. Although she’s a little judgmental at first. When she meets him, her first thought is that the Rico Suave act is overdone and cheap. His spanish accent is thick however, and she guessing what all her happily married friends say it true - everything does sound more romantic when someone rolls their ‘R’s. Not to mention - she doesn’t think it’s a front. He tends to go in spanish spiels when he’s fucking, muttering something in a different language that she hopes isn’t an insult.

He brings her to the same hotel, every second Sunday, exactly at midnight. He leaves at six-fifty-four every Monday morning, with a wad of cash tucked under her pillow. This goes on for six months.

Sometimes they fuck. Sometimes he slams the door when he comes in, tosses her against the nearest surface and pounds into her from behind.

Sometimes they make love. And he spends all night learning the tracks of her body all over again - how to make her arch her back and curl her toes, what gets her fisting at his hair. The little things.

And sometimes… on the best nights… they talk. He brings Merlot - she won’t tell a soul, but it’s her favorite drink - and weed and they curl up on the big, fluffy bed. They’ll watch some cheesy Hallmark movie and make fun of it or they’ll talk about her family. Her parents, upstate. Her son and her ex-husband a couple of towns over in Charming.

“Gemma,” he asks on one of those nights. She’s lying at the foot of the bed and he at the top, but their fingers are still intertwined and it doesn’t look like he plans on letting go anytime soon. She squeezes his hand in response, but says nothing. “What would you do if I took you away from this?”

She snorts. “Call you a crazy bastard. My old man would kill us.”

“A pimp isn’t an old man, Gem,” Nero sighs. He runs a hand through his salt and pepper locks tiredly before blowing air out through his nose. “Seriously. I own this farm… my son and his nanny stay there. He likes animals. I’d love for you to meet him.”

“Did you just call me an animal?” she laughs. Now it’s Nero’s turn to squeeze her hand. Gemma sighs. “I don’t know, Nero. When?”

“Now. Right now. We get in my car, leave your Caddy here and never look back. _Vámonos_ , _hermosa_ ,” he whispers. She shivers at the appropriate use of his native tongue and shrugs a little. Nero rolls a little bit so that he’s next to Gemma and their hands are squished between them. She turns to look at him after blowing smoke the other way, notices the red marks that run from his jaw and disappear into his white beater.

“ _Now_ ? If he finds me? If he finds _you_?” Gemma wasn’t so worried about herself. She knew the only way out of the life was prison or death, and she was ready for the latter. But it was Nero she stressed over. She worried so much for him - she’d gladly throw her life on the line for his, though she’d never admit it.

“I’ll gut him like a fuckin’ fish, baby girl,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and averts her eyes to their intertwined hands. “Please. _Por favor, mi amor, ven conmigo._ ”

“Tonight? What about Jax and Clay, in Charming? Will I ever see them again?” she asks. Nero shrugs.

“They can come up to the farm. I’m sure Lucius will love seeing new faces. He’ll love you, too. You know why? _Porque te amo, Gemma_.” She chuckles and buries her face in his shoulder before sparing a glance at his hopeful chocolate eyes.

“ _Yo también te quiero, Nero_.”

_Wait til I get the buzz off this drug,_   
_Damn girl, you way too fine for a local club_   
_Killin' someone’s vibes should be a fuckin' crime_   
_Wasting so much time should be a fuckin' crime_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it more entertaining when the author doesn't leave notes telling me the translations, but I'm in a good mood so I'll leave them for you all.
> 
> Vámonos, hermosa - Come on, beautiful  
> Por favor, mi amor, ven conmigo - Please, my love, come with me  
> Porque te amo, Gemma - Because I love you, Gemma  
> Yo también te quiero, Nero - I love you, Nero


	6. Training Wheels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.  
>    
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: PLEASE SEE THE END OF THE CHAPTER FOR NOTES. Thank you.
> 
> Song: Training Wheels

_I carry band-aids on me now_  
_For when your soft hands hit the jagged ground_  
_Wheels aren't even touching the ground_  
_Scared to take them off but they're so worn out_

Nero shows Gemma his bike a few months after they move onto the farm. Lucius is in bed, sleeping soundly as his father and step-mother mess around in the shed. They’re all bites and bruises - none of the sweet, sensual lovemaking that they did when Lucius was at school. She’s pushed up against the shed wall, splinters digging into the soft cotton of her shirt and Nero’s teeth tugging at the flesh on her neck. New bruises appear over old ones, and if Gemma weren’t so gone from the feel of his cold hands against her stomach, she’d laugh at the probability of her never going a day without some sort of hickey on her skin.

Nero is persistent in fucking her on every inch of land he owns, and since they’ve worn out everywhere in the house except for Lucius’ bedroom and bathroom, he’s decided to move his little goal out to the shed. His thumbs rub her sides gently, sending shudders through her body that make her knees quiver.

It’s not until she tugs at the collar of his shirt that he’s drawn out of his practice. Her hazel eyes are transfixed on something behind him, her bruised and red lips parted ever-so-slightly - as if she’s going to say something. Nero follows her gaze to the large tarped object in the middle of the room. _Shit. I’d forgotten about that._

“ _Wa’s that?_ ” Gemma slurs, her tongue heavy from alcohol and the high of sex. Nero rubs the back of his neck with his hand, and the absence of the cold on her skin forces a small whimper from her lips.

“Uh, it’s my old bike. My cousin used to drive it around, but he got a new one. He dropped it off while you were at work the other day,” he shrugs. “Is it a problem? ‘Cause I can get rid of it.”

Nero knew that Gemma had a bit of objection towards riding bikes - Charming had left some permanent scars on Gemma that no amount of time could fade. And honestly, his girl’s sanity was more important than some fat boy he hadn’t rode in ages.

“Mmm… take me for a ride, baby,” she says. Nero turns back to look at her, confusion written all over his face. Gemma had sworn off bikes as soon as they moved onto the farm - she had insisted that everything was changing. She didn’t want anything to do with Sons of Anarchy or SAMCRO, and motorcycles had been one huge connection between those things.

It’s a bit of a surprise that she wants to ride one, but Nero hasn’t said no to Gemma yet and he’s not going to make a habit of it now.

Neither of them say anything as Nero rummages around in the small little compartment on the bike before retrieving his keys. He offers her a helmet, but Gemma shakes her head and mutters something to him about ‘the wind in her hair’. He doesn’t really argue - it’s damn near two in the morning in the middle of nowhere. The only ones out on the roads would be tourists on road trips and a couple of deer. Not to mention that Nero’s _completely_ sober - one or two glasses of wine hadn’t really done much for him.

He opens up the shed doors while Gemma tosses aside the rest of the tarp, and they work in silence preparing for their ride.

“Are you sure you want to do this, mama?” Nero asks, when Gemma finally wraps her arms around his waist. She presses her cheek against his shoulder and breathes in the smell of cologne and soap. She nods against the silk of his shirt and Nero revs the engine.

They pull out of the shed and off the property quietly. Nero plans to drive for one or two miles before coming back, but Gemma’s squeezing him so tightly and one of her hands is dangerously travelling south, so he makes the loose plan to at least be back before he has to get Lucius up and to school.

Once they’re on the road, things seem to change significantly. It feels like a hallmark movie moment, with blonde and brown tendrils of hair occasionally blowing in his peripheral vision and Gemma’s laughter filling his ears with the rush of the wind. When he dares a glance over his shoulder, her head is tossed back and her eyes are filled with laughter that rings in his ears. Even if they’re not warm and in their bed back at the farm, Nero feels strangely at home with her.

He kicks up the engine and pushes the speed limit, leaning forward on the bike just to show off. Behind him, Gemma presses her head against his shoulder again and he can feel her lips against back. Her hand returns to its traveling mission, and Nero laughs over the wind.

“Not that I don’t love it, mama,” he says. “but I’d rather not crash.”

Something about that makes her tense, if only briefly, before she goes back to rubbing him through his pants.

“Then you better take us home,” she purrs into his ear. Nero ignores the way that little purr sends shivers down his spine as he carefully maneuvers the bike into an illegal U-turn.

The drive back to the farm is less enthralling as the one away, but it’s much more anticipated. Gemma squirms behind him as he backs the bike back into the shed, and it’s not until they’re both off of it that he finds himself pushed against the shed wall again.

It’s not rough like it was earlier, but it did sort of hurt and Nero guesses that’s what Gemma feels like when he does the same to her. Gentle reminder: cut that shit out.

“I love you, Nero,” Gemma says, as she begins to kiss a path south from his lips. “I love you so much.”

He can feel her breath right up his waistline and another shiver cuts through him. She hooks her fingers around the waistband of his pants and tugs down, and the tiny kisses she leaves around the elastic of his boxers seems to get something other than his heart pumping fast.

“We gotta go on more motorcycle rides, mama.”

_I love everything you do_  
_When you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do_  
_Wanna ride my bike with you_  
_Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, reader! What did you think about the chapter? I love constructive criticism and all, please feel free to leave that below.
> 
> Now I have a question. Do any of you want to play a game? 
> 
> As some of you may know, every Wednesday I update my story Biting the Bullet. And from chapter three on, the chapters will be named after a song. The song won't have anything particular to do with the chapter, it'll just be a song I'll be happening to listen to when I title it. Now, here's the game.
> 
> If you can guess the artist of the song and give me the first lyric, you get to choose a song for this fiction and a theme for me to write for. Plus, the chapter will be dedicated to you. The chapter will be posted the following Sunday - like every other Sunday, when I post to this story - and the game will resume again on Wednesday. If no one gets it, I have back-up chapters to post, so don't worry. Winner or not - you all still get your chapter.
> 
> So, if you're interested, look out for the chapter this Wednesday. First person to get it wins!


	7. Endlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: No one played the game :( Oh well, you all get a chapter nonetheless. Better luck next week.
> 
> Song: Endlessly by Green River Ordinance

_She is my cigarettes and champagne_   
_She's got me strung but I'm not running_   
_I, I love that girl_

It’s quiet in her house but not in her soul. She feels everything from fury to maddening love from her fingertips to her toes and she’s not going to let go of it. She was furious with him for doing this to her, but she loved him because she knew that he did it for her _own_ good.

The worst part was, for once in her life, she wasn’t talking about Jax Teller.

She was talking about Nero.

She’d met an older guy at the bar and let him take her home. It had been after a particularly dirty argument with Nero - one so dirty, she was sure she was going to have to pick rocks out of the wounds later. She’d slept with the guy to get back at him. Not out of any real attraction.

But then the asshole got rough. In the end, she walked out of it in something other than a body bag, so she figured she cut a deal. She wouldn’t walk straight for a few days and she’d never be able to look at certain places on her body the same, but she’d make it out alive. That’s all that mattered.

Nero hadn’t seen the same point. All he’d seen was red.

He hadn’t listened to her, when she’d tried to get him to stay with her. To cuddle up to her side and just hold her because that was the second time she’d been legally raped and technically, the third since that conjugal with Clay. But he won’t listen. He leaves. He leaves her just like everyone and everything ever has.

He comes back covered from head to toe in blood. He tells her of a scrubbed clean crime scene and a dead body, tucked away in a trunk, chopped into careful pieces and wrapped up. He tells her of the things he did to the man, holds her hands by her sides when she tries to clamp her hands over her ears.

He then recounts her own sodomization. All of them. The one with the League, the one he only knew of because whispers of it around the Club and the way she screamed in her sleep for them to stop, stop, stop, because it was fire between her legs and she didn’t need to burn, she couldn’t afford to burn.

He tells her of the one with Clay, the one where she rocked against the man's bruised skin and whispered prayers to a God she doesn’t believe in. He knows this one because she told him, because she talked to him and explained to him and _confided_ in him. And she told him of it - the sounds of belt buckles jingling behind her and the sounds of Clay’s grunts as he got off, over and over and over again. The dirty feeling she’d felt for a month after, whenever Nero would ask her to be on top. This, he knows more about, and this he is able to force more of down her throat.

And finally, he tells her of her most recent victimizations. He tells of the man. He tells of the way she had been tied down and blindfolded - left for hours in fear of what may come. He tells her of cold instruments and tools that she could see, of tearing sensations and the feeling that more of her was being torn apart than what was under the lace of her panties. He tells of her screams and pleads for mercy that fall on deaf ears and he tells her of hazy feelings and yellowing, rotten teeth and the name the man had called her. Rose, Rose, Rose for the rose on her arm and the rose he defiled.

He holds her and forces her to listen because she needs to know. And she needs to remember. She needs to remember how to feel.

And when she’s nothing but a sobbing mess and they’re both crumpled on the floor, he presses his lips against her hair.

“These are the words that we must drown forever, Gemma.”

“You are no better than the men that prowl the streets, the men that hunt for prey to degrade and belittle.”

“We both have blood printed in our palms. We must be healers. We must killers. It is our nature. Only what you think of me makes me different from those who find pleasure in the pain of others, and only what you love of me makes me better than those who have hurt you.”

“And these are the confessions we must burn for eternity, Nero.”

_It's 3 a.m. I wonder where you are_   
_And the crooked smiles and worn out miles between us_   
_Now I wonder where you are_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice, the dialogue doesn't quite fit who Gemma and Nero are as people. That's because it's more like poetry than actual dialogue...? I don't know, I wanted to try something new. So no, that's not actually what they said. I'll leave it up to you to toss up what you think was actually said.


	8. I Think I'm In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. And no, that doesn't mean the song lyrics. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: Here's your Sunday chapter. Later than expected - sorry, I fell asleep - but here. Also, the song lyrics don't fit the story but I worked extremely hard on it and I didn't want to post it as a separate thing because I'd be waaaaaaaay too tempted to continue it as a multi-chapter fic. And because it's nothing but pure crack, I simply can't run a story on nothing but laughs. Enjoy!
> 
> Song: I Think I'm In Love by Kat Dahlia

_You asked me how I feel, I say nothin'_  
_But lately color seems so bright_  
_And the stars light up the night_  
_My feet they feel so light_

Gemma always hated when the boys went back to school. That was the most painful. Having them at home, everyday for the summer. Seeing their smiling faces or their sly smirks as they each came up with some new mischievous plan that would drive Nero up the wall and make John and Clay glad that they were only ‘daddy’ on weekends.

And the sleeping on. Oh, the sleeping in. With all the boys usually asleep until dinner, she got to do a lot of things she couldn’t get done during the school year. Which was sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And sleep. And also, sleep.

And then they’d go back.

Besides - the first morning was always hell when the boys went back and the last thing she needed was a hell of a morning. She had a killer headache because Nero always insisted that the day they went back to school was a day to celebrate, so she was usually hungover.

“Alright, alright, Jackson. Where’s your backpack? Tommy, find your shoes,” Gemma calls, watching the two boys shuffle like zombies around the house. They weren’t used to being up that early, and neither was she. But she had to make due and become the Stepford housewife for a couple of minutes until she could get them there.

Lucius, unlike her biological sons, is already packed and ready. He’s dressed up in one of his new outfits and he’s munching on cereal while his step-brothers struggle to stay awake, watching old reruns of his favorite cartoon. Nero is next to him, his nose buried in the newspaper and his ankle resting comfortably on his knee. They look way more put together than the Teller-Morrow side of the family.

“Hey, asshole,” Gemma greets her husband when she finally sulks into the kitchen. “Can you get the boys some cereal?”

“Sure they won’t fall asleep in the bowl?”

“Fuck _off_ , Nero,” she snaps, not in the mood to deal with her boyfriends condescending shit. Nero always got really smug around the Back-to-School holiday, considering that was the only time of the year he had actually got the upperhand on Gemma. That, and Father’s Day, but she kind of gave that one to him.

“Alright, alright. Jax, Tommy, come get breakfast!” he calls to the boys, that had dozed off in the middle of packing their backpacks and tying their shoes. Jax snaps awake first, and then realizing that they fell asleep, slaps his brother awake.

Eventually, they join the rest of the family in the kitchen. Nero pulls down two bowls for cereal while Gemma messes around with the coffee maker. Eventually, she joins the table with three cups of coffee - sliding two across the table to her boys.

“Hey, that’s no fair! They get coffee!” Lucius cries. Three pairs of eyes - one green, one blue, and one hazel - find themselves on Lucius, and with the heat they’re packing, he just decides to let it go. Nero’ll never let him have coffee anyways and Gemma had no real authority when it came to things like that. One of the perks of being her blood and not Nero’s, but he’d never get to experience that.

“Lucius, if I were you, I’d haul ass to somewhere that wasn’t here. You have ten minutes before we leave for school. Go upstairs and make sure you have everything,” Nero whispers in his sons ear, before settling back down into his seat. He pours Thomas and Jackson’s cereal, but they just stare blankly at their spoons like they expect the objects to feed them. Lucius nods and scampers out of the kitchen, muttering something about his ID.

“Mom, can I ask a question?” Thomas asks, still staring numbly at his spoon.

Gemma takes a sip of her coffee and gives a curt, “No.”

“I’m going to ask anyway-” a groan from her side of the table. “-how come it is that every summer, we put ourselves through the torture of going to sleep an hour before we have to actually get up and get ready?”

“Good question, Thomas,” Nero mutters to himself.

“I mean, it’s without fail,” Thomas continues. Gemma shrugs numbly.

“Because I hate you and am starting to regret not aborting you?” she asks. Thomas nods and takes his hint to shut up - he didn’t want to get the Teller family gaze. No one survived that shit - and even if he was a Teller, he takes it that he probably wouldn’t survive it either.

Nero, however, laughs into his coffee. The way Gemma’s side of the family played around would always amuse and shock him to no end. They said some things to each other that Nero would rather cut his own tongue out before saying to Lucius - or even his ex-girlfriend. He knows they’re joking, of course - Gemma loved both of her boys endlessly, more than anything she’d ever loved in the world. And he also knows that the boys cared more about Gemma than their fathers - which was why they lived with her and not them.

But some of the insults.

_Because I hate you and am starting to regret not aborting you,_ was just a teaser. Among them were - _I could have a junkie for a mother and she’d still do a better job remembering not to kill me_ and _I’m not trying to be a douche or anything mom, but maybe you shouldn’t do stupid stuff like threaten to electrocute me when my Uncle, the cop, is in the other room._

It was a miracle these three hadn’t managed to murder each other. But he figures out why when he checks his watch and realizes the kids were going to be late. And that reason is because they turned the majority of that rage on _others_.

“Oh shit, okay. Everyone - in the car,” Nero instructs, taking a final slurp of his coffee. There’s a tone of urgency to his voice, but nobody seems willing to move an inch. Except for Gemma, who moves her hand to flip him off. “ _Now_. The boys gonna be late and you were the one that said you wanted to see them off.”

“Yeah, and did anyone warn you that you were gonna be kind of an asshole this morning?” Jackson asks around his mouthful of cereal. Gemma snorts out a bit of laughter and Thomas actually smiles into his coffee. Nero just watches the three of them in awe - the way they slurp their coffee and bask in all their morning laziness.

“I’m not being an asshole. I’m trying to get two teenagers to school. Which, in my defense, it proving to be a lot more difficult than expected. Up. Now. _Lucius_!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Thomas sighs, running a hand over his face. He was the youngest of his side of the family - barely a sprung Freshman in high school - but he seemed to act the oldest. And Gemma was his _mother_. “or you could let us enjoy our breakfast and we could go to school later.”

Nero sighs. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to get them to school without too much of a hassle. So he has Lucius grab their backpacks while he hoists each teenager out of their seats and to the car. Once he’s sure Thomas and Jackson have no choice but to buckle in, he goes back to retrieve their mother.

Luckily, she’s dressed. And she’s much lighter than her football and basketball players. And _she_ laughs when he slings her over his shoulder. And he enjoys having her ass in face - especially in leather.

Once the family is in the car, it’s easier from there. The drive to the school is peaceful - Lucius mostly just wants to watch the scenery and the boys sleep. Gemma keeps attempting to doze off at the window too, but Nero occasionally swerves the car and forces her to wake up.

“You can sleep when we get home. All you want. It’s Thomas’ first day of high school, Gemma. You don’t want to miss that.”

“I’d miss that for a two second nap, right now,” she replies tiredly. “This is your fault. You wanted to celebrate.”

“Until _ten_. You’re the one that let the boys stay up until five in the morning playing video games so you could explore your new… ideas,” Nero says carefully, remaining mindful of the youngest and only child in the back. Gemma frowns at Nero, but doesn’t argue. Simply looks away and tries to sneakily doze off again.

When they pull up to the school, the boys seem rested enough to walk without Nero’s assistance. Lucius hugs each of his brothers goodbye, followed by Nero who gives them lunch money. Finally, Gemma cups each of their faces a places gentle kisses on their forehead. They parked far enough away from the other kids so that they don’t have to see the display of affection, but the boys still writhe away from their mothers kisses.

“Okay. You know the drill. Be good. Keep your head in the books and out of the skirts. If you get a bitch knocked up, don’t come home. If you murder something, that’s your father’s problem, not mine. Have a good day, babies.”

“Try not to ride his brains out too much, Mom,” Jackson says with a lopsided grin. “Nero’s only got so much horsepower.”

“I am right here,” the man in question growls. “and I’m getting back in the car.” Gemma smiles at the boys one final time, pats their shoulders, and slips into the car. For the rest of the school year, they’ll ride the bus because Gemma’ll go back to working at the autoshop and Nero will go back to working as a shrink. But today, she enjoys watching her boys catch up with old friends.

Eventually, she turns back to Nero.

“They grow up too quickly,” she mutters.

“Yeah. They do. But hey - sooner they’re grown, the sooner we don’t have to do the ‘First Day of School’.”

“Well, we have a good few more years of that,” she grins back, gesturing to Lucius, who was watching his parents exchange. Nero’s eyes widen and he curses loudly.

“ _Shit_ , I forgot I have to get _him_ to school!”

“Makes sense - the _only_ child in this family that’s _yours_ and you forget me,” Lucius says.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Lucius.”

_And your blunts are always loose so I'm in charge of rollin' ditches_  
_And we getting so high, we always get the munchies_  
_And we go for early brunches that turn into late lunches_  
_And we ain't gotta label, we're just rollin' with the punches_


	9. Tumblr OTP Meme pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will OCCASIONALLY get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit, originally the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to Tumblr users for the prompts/questions. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the original idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: These next few chapters will be EXTREMELY short - because I need to put aside the time I use to write for this to write for other stuff - and won't have song lyrics. Instead, they'll be Tumblr prompts or the OTP meme questions.
> 
> I think that's actually how I'm going to do the rest of WIFLTB. We'll see how these go.
> 
> Prompt/Question: Who worries about how they will look when they're older?

**Answer:** _Gemma_

He catches her one afternoon, staring in the mirror. Her plump lips are forming an unsatisfactory pout and her hazel eyes are narrowed as her perfectly manicured nails press and poke at her face. She doesn’t look on the verge of tears, but she looks seriously unhappy.

“What’s wrong, mama?” Nero asks, after thirty minutes of watching her poke, prod, and examine. She turns to look at him, and her eyes widen before narrowing again. 

“I’m getting old,” she whispers, before turning back to the mirror. “Luann used to do botox.”

“You don’t need botox, Gemma,” Nero sighs, having seen this coming for a long time. Clay had said it to him once too - she’ll always put her looks before her health. If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Gemma, was that she was probably the world’s biggest narcissist.

“But… what happens when I get saggy and baggy?” she asks, and now the tears are starting to prick in her eyes. Gemma’s been beautiful all of her life - he’s not sure she knows how to handle the probability of being even mildly unattractive to anyone with eyes.

“Gemma, you’ll always be a goddess, and you know that,” her boyfriend replies boredly. “I still have to stand like a bodyguard when we go  _ shopping  _ because some twenty-year-old idiot wants to get handsy. You’re fine.”

“And when I become ‘not-fine’?” she prods, accusation in her tone. She’s looking for some consolidation - some over-the-top sappy promise that she’ll always be beautiful in his eyes and how nothing else matters. But Nero shrugs instead.

“I’ll take you from behind more often.”


	10. Tumblr OTP Meme pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will OCCASIONALLY get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit, originally the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to Tumblr users for the prompts/questions. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the original idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: Sorry for the late chapter. Something came up unexpectedly. These last few weeks have been a whirlwind and I just... I'm sorry. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
> 
> Prompt/Question: Who makes the mixtapes/CD's?

**Answer:** _ Gemma _

She’s humming along and snapping her fingers, swaying her hips all over the kitchen. Nero is sitting at the dining room table, watching her with mild amusement. It was cute, actually, the way she danced around like she’d forgotten he was there. Occasionally, she’ll belt out a lyric or two and he’ll find that she has an extremely nice singing voice.

Gemma gives another swish of her hips and tousles her hair before going back to making the drinks. He’s pretty sure that’s unsanitary, but she’s having fun so he keeps his mouth shut. 

When she brings over the food and that night's poison concoction - last night had been ‘Vodquila’ and he’s not really sure he’s ready for another one of those - she pauses briefly to set a plate down and take out the tape to put something more romantic and slow in.

Gemma waits patiently for Nero to say his grace - she’d stop being less of a bitch over the religion thing, simply accepting that he had different opinions - and take a couple bites of his food until she nudges his leg under the table.

“Like it?” ‘It’ was her attempt at mexican food. It wasn’t anything overzealous and it bordered on a mixture between Mexican and American, but she’d went out of her way to do something special for him so he’s not going to tell her that.

“It’s delicious, baby. Thank you,” he replies with a smile. Gemma beams - despite the fact that if he points it out, she’ll deny it - and digs into her own. She loved the praise - she  _ bathed  _ in it. “Which mix was that?”

“The one I play on my iPod when I’m taking a shower,” she replies with boredom, stabbing at a vegetable distractedly. “Why, did you like it or somethin’?”

“I liked the way you danced to it,” he grins. Gemma’s eyes flash briefly and under the table, she crosses her legs. Got her. “You’re so damn sexy, mama.”

“I made it myself,” she says, trying to get him to shut up. If Nero kept complimenting her like that, they wouldn’t finish dinner. He knew how to get what he wanted, damn smooth talker. “The mixtape. Juice showed me how. I have a bunch of blank CD’s and tapes and shit - I just got to burn more stuff onto them. Maybe I’ll make you one.”

“Oh that’s so bad eighties movie,” he snorts. Gemma rolls her eyes and Nero smiles at her. “You think you can get some of my music from my phone?”

“Yeah, baby, sure. I’ll get started it on it after dinner.”

“I actually have other plans for after dinner, beautiful,” he mutters, before leaning over and kissing her cheek. 

He was right. They didn’t finish dinner.


	11. Tumblr OTP Meme pt. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: These one-shots feature heavy subjects, including alcoholism, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression, cheating, heartbreak, underage, implied prostitution, smut, rape/non-con and self-harm. I'll add more as the story wears on, just in case. But, as from these tags, you can see that this story will OCCASIONALLY get extremely dark, extremely fast. Tread lightly.
> 
> Disclaimer: Albeit, originally the Sons of Anarchy version of my song!collection, The Sound of Liquor and Tears, I still hold no real claim to it. Credit goes to Tumblr users for the prompts/questions. Credit goes to HannahSongla for the original idea. Credit goes to Kurt Sutter for the verse and the characters. I don't really own anything but the text of these one-shots. Enjoy c:
> 
> AN: I'm getting better guys. :D I hope you like.
> 
> Prompt/Question: Who clings to the other during scary movies?

**Answer:** _Nero_

Movie night was Gemma’s idea. It was their way of spending time together. Most of the time they didn’t really watch movies - she cooked dinner, they ate, and then they played cards or talked or watched television. She would just call it ‘date night’, but they don’t really go out and besides, Nero has a reputation to uphold.

Occasionally, however, they did indulge in the night’s actual title and settle in for a movie. She didn’t cook - they ordered a pizza or takeout - and they cuddled up on the couch with their food and wine. Or Gemma put her feet in his lap and he had to sit at the other end of the couch.

Gemma always picked the movies, too. Unfortunately for Nero - who was more into Disney, having watched it for four years until he put Lucius in his home - that meant they always watched bad action movies or horror movies. More often than not, horror movies. They were her guilty pleasure - she loved the thrill of being scared.

Tonight is _Friday the 13th_ , and unlucky for Nero, the only reason why she picks it is because it happens to be a Friday the 13th. He pleads her to watch the Lion King because that’s a damned good movie and it’s a heartwarming _family_ movie, but Gemma just grins sadistically at him and tells him to man up.

Half an hour into the movie, Nero reaches for her hand. She’s curled at the other end of the couch, but he still scoots over so that he can hold it. He’s immersed in what’s going on in the television, but his thumb still rubs over the back of her hand whenever the music gets too suspenseful or something alluding to a scare happens. He squeezes it when something scary happens.

Forty-five minutes into it, he begins cuddling her. She doesn’t really notice him move because he keeps his hand clasped in hers the entire time, but somehow he manages to be spooning her on the couch. Their intertwined hands are draped over her stomach and his chin rests comfortably on her shoulder.

“Nero?” she asks, when he gives her hand another scared squeeze and pulls her closer to him. “Baby, do you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” he replies. “It’s just getting good.”

“But you’re scared,” she points out.

“I know. Of losing you,” he whispers back. Gemma smiles, rolls her eyes, and turns back to the television. On screen, a boy is forced to watch as his girlfriend is brutally murdered. Curled up on the couch, a man presses his groin into his girlfriend's arse and decides movie night is a really, _really_ good excuse.


End file.
